Metamorphosis

By Franz Kafka

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was laying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.” With this startling, bizarre, yet surprisingly funny first opening, Kafka begins his masterpiece, The Metamorphosis. It is the story of a young man who, transformed overnight into a giant beetle-like insect, becomes an object of disgrace to his family, an outsider in his own home, a quintessentially alienated man. A harrowing — though absurdly comic — meditation on human feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and isolation, The Metamorphosis has taken its place as one of the most widely read and influential works of twentieth-century fiction...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Ruggieri
• Release date: Mar 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9788826043920

Franz Kafka

Born in Prague in 1883, the son of a self-made Jewish merchant, Franz Kafka trained as a lawyer and worked in insurance. He published little during his lifetime and lived his life in relative obscurity. He was forced to retire from work in 1917 after being diagnosed with tuberculosis, a debilitating illness which dogged his final years. When he died in 1924 he bequeathed the – mainly unfinished – manuscripts of his novels, stories, letters and diaries to his friend the writer Max Brod with the strict instruction that they should be destroyed. Brod ignored Kafka’s wishes and organised the publication of his work, including The Trial, which appeared in 1925. It is through Brod’s efforts that Kafka is now regarded as one of the greatest novelists of the twentieth century.

Book preview

Franz Kafka

Metamorphosis

First digital edition 2017 by Anna Ruggieri

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

I

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, hefound himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He layon his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little hecould see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by archesinto stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it andseemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thincompared with the size of the restof him, waved about helplessly ashe looked.

What's happened to me? he thought. It wasn't a dream. Hisroom, a proper human room although a little too small, laypeacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textilesamples lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a travellingsalesman - and above it there hung a picture that he had recentlycut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gildedframe. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa whosat upright, raising aheavy fur muff that covered the whole of herlower arm towards the viewer.

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather.Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feelquite sad. How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget allthis nonsense, he thought, but that was something he was unable todo because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his presentstate couldn't get into that position. However hard he threwhimself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. Hemust have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that hewouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stoppedwhen he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had neverfelt before.

Oh, God, he thought, what astrenuous career it is that I'vechosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like thistakes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and ontop of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about makingtrain connections, bad and irregular food, contact with differentpeople all the time so that you can never get to know anyone orbecome friendly with them. It can all go to Hell! He felt a slightitch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towardsthe headboard so that he could lift his head better; found wherethe itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little whitespots which he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried tofeel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back becauseas soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder.

He slid back into his former position. Getting up early all thetime, he thought, it makes you stupid. You've got to get enoughsleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. Forinstance,whenever I go back to the guest house during the morningto copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sittingthere eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with myboss; I'd get kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe thatwould be the best thing for me. If I didn't have my parents tothink about I'd have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd havegone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tellhimeverything I would, let him know just what I feel. He'd fallright offhis desk! And it's a funny sort of business to be sittingup there at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from upthere, especially when you have to go right up close because theboss is hard of hearing. Well, there's still some hope; once I'vegot the money together to pay off my parents' debt to him - anotherfive or six years I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.That's when I'll make the big change. First of all though, I've gotto get up, my train leaves at five.

And he looked over atthe alarm clock, ticking on the chest ofdrawers. God in Heaven! he thought. It was half past six and thehands were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than halfpast, more like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? Hecould see from the bed that it had been set for four o'clock as itshould have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes, but was itpossible to quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise?True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the more deeplybecause ofthat. What should he do now? The next train went atseven; if he were to catch that he would have to rush like mad andthe collection of samples was still not packed, and he did not atall feel particularly fresh and lively. And even if he did catchthe train he would not avoid his boss's anger as the officeassistant would have been there to see the five o'clock train go,he would have put in his report about Gregor's not being there along time ago. The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless,andwith no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But thatwould be extremely strained and suspicious as in fifteen years ofservice Gregor had never once yet been ill. His boss wouldcertainly come round with the doctor from the medical insurancecompany, accuse his parents of having a lazy son, and accept thedoctor's recommendation not to make any claim as the doctorbelieved that no-one was ever ill but that many were workshy. Andwhat's more, would he have been entirely wrong in this case?Gregordid in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness after sleepingfor so long, feel completely well and even felt much hungrier thanusual.

He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable todecide to get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter toseven. There was a cautious knock at the door near his head.Gregor, somebody called - it was his mother -